She Couldn't Cry
by misaoshiru
Summary: What was the real reason Sam went goth? [Oneshot. Involves some serious issues, thus the rating.]


Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. I do, however, own the plotbunny this is spawn of, which caused me to temporarily abandon my NaNoWriMo project to write this. Lucky me. XD (No profit is being made, etc.)

**She Couldn't Cry  
**_by misaoshiru_

When Elisa Parker met Trevor Johnson, the two of them seemed like the perfect couple to everyone around them. It wasn't long before they started dating, and they stayed together from freshman year until they were seniors. They were even prom queen and king. Everyone thought they would get married and have a perfect life together, but everything went wrong on prom night. Trevor's parents were out of town for the weekend, and Elisa's parents didn't care how late she came home, so when he asked her to his house to watch a movie after the dance, she agreed. What was the harm? When he offered her a drink, she thought he was just being a gentleman. The problem was, she was unable to remember just what happened after she drank her cola. She woke up the next morning on his couch, her head pounding. He told her she'd fallen asleep during the movie, and even though she couldn't remember watching anything, she believed him and went home.

Until she started missing periods, she was unaware that anything was amiss. She was getting sick on a regular basis, but…she couldn't be pregnant, could she? She was still a virgin, right? But it troubled her. She still had no memory of what happened at Trevor's house on prom night. When she confronted him, he just gave her the same story as before, that she just fell asleep. But when she took a pregnancy test, there was no denying it. Her "perfect" boyfriend had raped her.

She could have just had an abortion, gotten rid of the baby quietly. She thought about it seriously, but the thought didn't sit right with her. No. This was her child. She was going to give birth, and there was no turning back.

Elisa Parker's parents kicked her out of the house on her eighteenth birthday. The next day, Samantha Ann Parker was born.

* * *

Elisa was only eighteen years old, and almost no one seemed willing to help her. She had no clue what she was doing. But every time she looked into her daughter's eyes, she knew she had made the right decision. 

Fortunately, Elisa managed to find a good job at a store in Amity Park's mall and rented out a small but cozy little apartment in one of the better parts of town. Samantha, like all small children, was a bit of a handful, but she turned out to be comparatively well behaved.

Elisa's older sister Karen Manson often babysat little Sam, though her constant advice to settle down and find a husband got on Elisa's nerves. She found she had a hard time trusting men now, since Trevor had taken advantage of her. Sometimes, she found it hard to cope with the stress. Alcohol became her refuge. She drank to take the pain away, yet it always found her again. At least when it came back for her, Sam was there.

One time, when Sam was four, she had come running to her mother to point out a little tiny black spider. Unlike most little girls, though, she wasn't afraid of it. She was just curious. "Mommy, why is it black?"

"Because its mommy died giving birth to it," Elisa said. "Spiders can't cry for their mommies, so they turn black to show how much they miss them."

"Because they couldn't cry?" Sam echoed.

"Yup."

"Poor spiders. I could be their mommy!"

"No, you couldn't."

"Why not, Mommy?"

"Because you only have two legs. Now, why don't you go use those legs to run off and play?" Elisa gave her a rare smile, and Sam beamed back. For one rare moment, everything was perfect in Elisa's life again.

* * *

Over time, the pain became harder and harder for Elisa to bear, so she drank more and more. Some nights, she would pass out at the bars, and Karen would have to come pick her up after putting Sam to bed. Then, one night, Elisa didn't come home at all. She died of alcohol poisoning. 

Sam, who was now seven, had to go live with her aunt Karen and her uncle, who she didn't care for much. They were nice enough, but they never gave her much attention. Worse, they were adopting her. She didn't want to have to call Aunt Karen her mother. Her Mommy was her mother. That night, she cried until no more tears would come. Then, she just sat on her bed miserably, hoping someone, anyone, would come and tell her that it was all just a sick joke, that her mommy would be coming back after all. But no one did, and while she sat there, Sam decided that she didn't want cry anymore. She couldn't cry, and she wouldn't.

The next day, she told the class, "My name's Sam Manson now, not Sam Parker."

"How come?" one of her friends in the class, Danny Fenton, asked innocently.

"I dunno," she said, though it wasn't true. She knew, at least as well as a seven-year-old could.

From that day on, Sam Manson wore black. It wasn't because she didn't like conforming to mainstream or being like everyone else, even though those were true. It was because she missed her mother, and she couldn't cry.

* * *

_End_

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Author's Notes

This fic is dedicated to all those who've lost their mothers to sexual abuse or rape. Sexual violence lasts far longer than the actual act, and it has often led young women to commit suicide or abuse drugs. May our mothers rest in peace, and may the villains at fault come to justice.

Yes, before anyone asks, my mother was a casualty of sexual violence. Her grandfather sexually abused her while she was growing up. I don't know to what extent, but I do know that she committed suicide by overdosing on stress-relief medications before my seventh birthday... I'm not going to whine or angst about it, but I do want to tell others that I know what they're going through.


End file.
